Going Batty

Living in the Bat Cave episode 2.

Image result for pics of bats in homes

It was 9:00 last night. The dog starts going wild. The kids see the bat swooping down. As soon as me and Brandon look, it vanished. Disappeared. Gone.

We search the house high and low and have no idea where the bat could have gone.

The entire family is sleeping on a third shift schedule. If it happens to be dark out, we sleep with lights on.

I have learned what paranoia feels like. Every turn I make in the house, I’m searching for what is lurking near me. Every shadow, I jump.

I have learned a few things in the process.

  • Google refuses to tell you how to find a bat out of hiding. It has all kinds of advice about how to get a bat out of the house when it’s swooping. We don’t need any help with that though.


  • Bats can fit through anything that is about a quarter of an inch. We live in a 200 year old house. Joy.


  • I have learned that Google pleasures itself on scaring the mess out of people. I thought that was only WebMD. Last week, my kids had cancer twice. This week, I have rabies. Thank you Google.


  • My mom is a genius. Seriously. I have no idea if my mom actually knows what she’s talking about or not, but she’s brilliant. I tell her that Google thinks my entire family including the pets needs 14 days of rabies shots and my mom says that we don’t. She says that we don’t have rabies and that we are all fine. I reminded her that Google said if it was in people’s sleeping area they need to have shots. Mom said that bats in the house are normal and nobody gets shots. My anxiety dropped from 100-20. Hopefully she’s right, but she sounded good saying it.


  • The last thing I learned was how desperation looks. Picture a grown woman covered head to toe in a comforter, whistling, clapping, and chanting, holding a broom and a flashlight to hopefully lure a bat out of a hiding place. Enough said.

Our bat must have been a spy. It makes itself visible for mere seconds before totally disappearing. It’s winning the war hands down. Today I surrender. I only hope it doesn’t make an appearance in my bedroom again tonight. I don’t know how much more my heart can take. WebMD may finally have an accurate diagnosis.